Asking Questions of the Winds
by Narya's Bane
Summary: A story somewhat contradictory to my others for Amara; one shot- Amara, waiting for Boromir, discovers her nightmare has come true.


The following is seven pages of purest mess, but I put enough time in it to make it slightly coherent. I'm considering this an alternative story path from my previous stories about Amara, because I kept her alive a bit longer in order to make this scene possible.  
  
Basically, to give background, Amara is the younger sister of Aragorn who ended up raised in Gondor by a family of lesser nobles who didn't really know her ancestry but raised her like an adopted orphan. She later became friends with Boromir, but was called by her brother to join him before they hit maturity.  
  
Amara is a trained ranger, one of only a few females who willingly wander Middle Earth as such, who spent her time out of the wild in Gondor rather than Rivendale or the remains of Numenor. In this manner she ensnared the heart of Boromir; when Denethor discovered this, he was overjoyed at the mixing of the line of kings with his own progeny and supported the match.  
  
Amara, here, had taken sick and was only barely a help during the battles previous to the dream quest being undertaken by her love. Therefore, she has been waiting patiently for his return- hoping to be able to see her brother afterward and tell him of her decision to stay the rest of her life here. She is waiting- waiting- - always waiting. . .  
  
Written for an impatient audience who asked for it (but as always refusing to actually review to tell me they're reading. Come on guys!).  
  
As always, I own nothing of Lord of the Rings beyond some figurines, an elf dress, and my tickets for Trilogy Tuesday!!!!!!!!!!!  
  
- - - - - - - -  
  
The night wind brushed against Amara's face as she stood, wondering how this scene would play out in the end. The chill she felt was unrelated to the evening, though the bitter cold of the dark was indeed on her. Hers was a more important mission, something of grave weight in the minds of many a resident of Gondor. She was listening for the horn, watching for the return of the Lord of Gondor: Boromir, captain of the tower guard. And, incidentally, the keeper of her heart as well.  
  
She had stood here for many nights, expecting his return based on a dream. In it, her Mir threw his arms around her neck and reasserted his vow to take her as his wife; in it, he reminded her of his love for her. He told her she was brave and loyal to wait so long, speaking to her. . .  
  
As he spoke to her now, through the wind. When she closed her eyes, Amara could almost feel him beside her. Her dreams were sweet these days, and led her to the mountaintop overlooking the great river rounding by the tower. From here, she could even see Faramir as he walked along the bank in his sleeplessness. He, too, was plagued- though his visions were not so sweet.  
  
Then the wind changed; Amara pulled a shawl closer over her shoulders, closing her eyes tight to hear the tidings of the southern wind. Instead of words, she heard a call: the long sought for sound of the Horn of Gondor. And all hail! For the Lord of Gondor will soon return.  
  
In the moment, Amara could smile yet again as she thought of the last time she had seen her love. They'd met, as usual, in the secret compartment underneath the staircase in the palace. . .  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
The empty space had been their hidden rendezvous since the duo was hardly old enough to know each other by name and visuals besides the infant sense of knowledge. In secret, they'd been conducting a love affair for the past six years which only Faramir knew of. When Boromir had announced his intent to marry the young noblewoman, Denethor had been surprised yet pleased; he thought them more brother and sister than lovers.  
  
The steward had been quite wrong.  
  
Yet that last night had put an arrow through Amara's tender young heart.  
  
"I do not wish for you to go," she had plainly announced upon his very entrance to their hideaway.  
  
"I am going anyway," he'd insisted.  
  
"Mir, my love, what do you think to get out of this journey that your brother could not bring back in shorter time? And would he not enjoy the experience more than you in your temperament?"  
  
A fight had ensued, ending none too sweetly. "Ammy," Mir had ended in rage, "I think we need time apart anyway. We shall talk more upon my return."  
  
"But how shall I know it is you?" Ammy finally begged her love, letting true concern pour out from behind a pair of greatly hazel-blue eyes.  
  
"I will make the signs clear," Boromir assured, seeing her wish for his safe return was all that kept her from reaching his decision. "You will know. The horn will call, and the trumpet will sound, and the guard will cry out." With that, he took her face in his hand and bestowed upon her a kiss. "I will return for you."  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
So Amara listened not faithlessly. And when she heard the horn blowing in the dead of her best friend night, the female's heart leapt from its place in her chest. Yes, he was returning. It was assuredly the call she had waited for. The months spent alone in worry, though soothing for her in the most common sense, went from anguish to glee. The happiness she felt was intoxicating, yet unsatisfactory without the hero of Gondor in her arms.  
  
//Listen as the wind blows from across the great divide-  
  
Voices trapped in yearning, memories trapped in time.  
  
The night is my companion, and solitude my guide. . .  
  
Would I spend forever here and not be satisfied?  
  
And I would be the one to hold you down, kiss you so hard, I'll take your breath away; and after I'd wipe away the tears: just close your eyes dear.\\  
  
Amara saw Faramir, knew he heard the call of the horn as well. Yet in his eyes were despair; why? Did he not know that was Boromir's promise to her- to them? Did he miss that his brother would soon be home!  
  
Which is when she felt the change in the wind's tidings; from the three directions of the world, the most honorable places, she heard the mourning of the skies:  
  
"Beneath Amon Hen I heard his cry. There many foes he fought.  
  
His cloven shield, his broken sword, they to the water brought.  
  
His head so proud, his face so fair, his limbs they laid to rest;  
  
And Rauros, golden Rauros-falls, bore him upon its breast.'  
  
'O Boromir! The Tower of Guard shall ever northward gaze  
  
To Rauros, golden Rauros-falls, until the end of days."  
  
With that, her heart sank as she felt the very hill she stood upon fell from under her feet.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"How can you be so sure, Mir?"  
  
His embrace had lessened, and Boromir then looked into her eyes. "It's just this side of war, Amara," was the quiet admittance. "I cannot promise with certainty. Anytime a warrior goes on even a simple quest, there is nothing to assure his return. Surely your ranger kin have taught you that much?"  
  
Amara's heart had skipped. Yes, she had spent time with the remnants of Numenor, the fallen Dunedain who wandered this earth as rangers. It had been when her older brother had called for her, requesting that he at least be allowed to look upon the face of one so nearly related. Ammy had accepted the summons of this mysterious Telcontar- yet that trust had proven her downfall. For many years, Amara had been ill contented to stay in the safety of the city; Boromir had found himself fascinated by the idea of the female ranger, yet unwilling to accept the woman he loved had that free spirit. Only when they'd stopped reigning it in had it settled to a point.  
  
The urge to follow would be great. Yet it would serve no purpose, and Amara would ignore it well.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
And so she had. Yet for what purpose? She'd stayed, for him! And now?  
  
"Boromir!" She cried, running down the steep mountain and throwing herself into his brother's arms. The male, stunned, supported the unexpected weight and only barely found the strength to lower the woman to the ground below without falling himself.  
  
"I cannot find the truth in the dreams," Amara cried. "All is riddles!"  
  
"That is how the future is revealed. As well as the present."  
  
"But is he truly lost to us?" Amara demanded in tears, seeing that the other had come to his knees that he might speak on her level. "Has my Mir- is he. . . oh Valar, is Boromir dead?"  
  
Faramir did not answer. Instead, he set a comforting hand on her shoulder and helped her to stand. "Walk with me a while?" he suggested, pleading only gently.  
  
//Through this world I've stumbled, so many times betrayed, trying to find an honest word: to find the truth enslaved.  
  
Oh you speak to me in riddles, and you speak to me in rhymes.  
  
My body aches to breathe your breath; your words keep me alive!  
  
And I would be the one to hold you down, kiss you so hard, I'll take your breath away and after, I'd wipe away the tears.  
  
Just close your eyes dear!\\  
  
The pair walked along the river, going ever farther into the darkness. Amara held Faramir's arm shakily, watching the world around them.  
  
"I lied to him, Faramir," she suddenly announced. "I lied, and now he shall know the truth."  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"I refuse to let you follow me," Boromir had stated clearly. "I know of your abilities, but in this condition you are not well enough for travel."  
  
Amara had opened her mouth to protest, belatedly remembering she too had realized that truth. Instead, she collapsed into his arms and whimpered. "I do not like being weak in your eyes, even if the reasons are viable."  
  
"I just got through almost losing you," Mir whispered. "I would not have you submit to that darkness again, even for my account. Especially for my account!"  
  
Amara simply let him hold her. "I will always hear you," she had finally promised. "I swear to hear your call, and to answer in your moment of need. Simply call for me, and I shall be there; wherever you may be, Boromir, my heart knows I can reach."  
  
"I take your word."  
  
She had said, and meant it: she would listen with her heart. And when he first found need for her, she would be there- on her way to his side.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Now Amara found herself the victim of a broken promise. When need had been great, she had refused to believe- her listening had been inattentive. The only one who had known was Faramir, whose opinion in the matter had been ignored. For that ignorance, both Amara and Denethor were now doomed to live the truth in Boromir's death. Yes, death; the spot he occupied in Amara's heart had emptied fully with a simple regret to fill it.  
  
"I'm sorry, Faramir," Amara whispered. "I could have done it. I should have helped you when you first saw his fate lie towards trouble."  
  
Faramir was simply silent, unable to offer his brother's fiancé the hope and support she so desperately needed. In fact, it felt as though she could read his thoughts in place of Boromir's own mind.  
  
He didn't fully blame her, yet he knew her to be part of how the problem escalated. The rage burned hot, red and blue as the coals of the warmest fire.  
  
"How can I look your father in the face again? How can I think to live the life I might have? How can I. . ?"  
  
Amara needn't finish. They both knew the finish: how could she love again, imagine life married, now her true love was dead?  
  
"The sun rises," Faramir commented softly, guiding her along the riverbed. "Morning may bring better tidings with the early dawn."  
  
"Fie on the morning!" Amara cried, pulling away. "Fie, I say. It is the night which has kept me company til this night, and I fear the light of the sun. It shows me my faults too clearly." Faramir nodded understanding, watching as she drew farther to the land with tears and continued her tirade. "A pox on all daylight! I receive ill news daily from the sunlight; always the day tells me of my fate, though I cannot listen!"  
  
With that, the woman ranger- sister to Aragorn, son of Arathorn- ran from the last son and heir of Gondor's steward. And as she ran to the stables, she felt calm returning.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
When Amara awoke the next morning, she had felt the coldness next to her and realized Boromir woke before her. With careful measurement, she had risen from the bed and looked out into the sun. There she saw all that might have happened, had she followed the summons after the battle months before: had she been strong enough, in fact, to do so. Instead, she was here instead of chasing after some hobbitmaid she barely knew.  
  
Here, in Boromir's embrace.  
  
Then something new in the reflected sunlight: she was doomed to lose this. He was going to have to answer to fate.  
  
"No," Amara had cried to the sun. Only that had brought him finally from the adjoining washroom and to her side.  
  
"Ill omens, my love?"  
  
"Remind me that you're coming back," Amara had whispered.  
  
"I am coming back."  
  
That had been enough for then, as they kissed. Later, Amara watched with little fear as he rode away.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Rode away, never to return. Now Amara mounted her own mare, coaxing the horse to quietly depart from this land of her upbringing.  
  
She had her own path now, and wherever it led would be far from here.  
  
"Forward, Aldaron," she ordered, kicking until the animal obeyed. Soon, they were far from Gondor's walls. And Faramir. And any hope at a future she might have had.  
  
//Into this night I wander- it's morning that I dread.  
  
Another day of knowing of the path I fear to tread.  
  
Oh into the sea of waking dreams I follow without pride. . .  
  
Nothing stands between us here, and I won't be denied.\\ 


End file.
